Mason woke to voices arguing outside his chamber.

Not shouting but whisper-arguing.

Which somehow felt worse.

He opened his eyes slowly, staring at the ceiling carved with ancient divine symbols that still made absolutely no sense to his modern brain.

Athlian stretched inside their shared consciousness, amused.

’You survived divine judgment and still overslept.’

"I did not oversleep," He muttered quietly. "I emotionally recovered."

A knock came.

Mason sat up immediately, instinctively adjusting posture before answering.

"Enter."

The doors opened.

Draca stepped inside wearing his usual dark uniform, hair still damp from morning training.

He carried no weapon; a sign of trust inside the private chamber...yet his presence still filled the room with quiet authority.

He bowed. "My Goddess. The council chambers await. The nobles have begun arriving early."

"Of course they have," Mason sighed.

"Nothing says ’good morning’ like political pressure."

Draca’s lips twitched faintly.

Almost a smile...he approached closer than usual, placing several scrolls on the table.

"Reports from the temple districts," he said. "Last night’s divine visitation spread faster than expected. The people believe heaven personally approved your return."

Mason blinked. "...That was approval?"

Draca nodded calmly. "Compared to divine punishment, yes."

Fair point.

Mason stood and walked toward the balcony doors, sunlight spilling across the marble floor.

The city looked alive again.

Merchants reopened stalls. Priests organized ceremonies. Citizens pointed toward the palace with renewed reverence.

Athlian’s emotions softened. ’They missed me.’

Mason crossed his arms.

"They missed stability," he corrected gently.

Silence lingered between him and Draca.

Not uncomfortable but heavier than before.

Mason felt it immediately.

Draca was watching him again.

Carefully...not like a guard but like a man trying to solve something.

Mason turned casually. "You look like you want to ask a question."

Draca hesitated...which is rare.

He chose his words slowly. "You speak differently now."

Mason shrugged. "Near-death experiences change perspective."

"Perhaps," Draca said.

He didn’t sound convinced.

Athlian stirred uneasily. ’He notices too much.’

Draca continued, voice calm. "You analyze situations before reacting. You negotiate instead of commanding. You listen... before deciding."

Mason forced a light tone. "You’re describing improvement."

"I am describing difference."

There it was,not accusation but the first real suspicion.

Mason walked past him toward the dressing mirror, buying time.

"Are my decisions harming the kingdom?" he asked.

"No."

"Are the people safer?"

"Yes."

"Then maybe change isn’t a problem."

Draca nodded slowly but his gaze lingered on Mason’s reflection.

Searching.

Athlian felt a strange warmth. ’He is not afraid of change.’

Mason understood.

Draca wasn’t doubting out of distrust. He was trying to understand someone he cared about.

That somehow made it harder.

A servant entered quietly with ceremonial attire; flowing white-gold robes symbolizing divine authority.

Mason stared at them like they personally insulted him.

"I miss hoodies."

Athlian laughed.

Draca looked confused. "Hood...ies?"

"Nothing," Mason said quickly. "Ancient divine fashion term."

Draca accepted the explanation without question.

Which almost made Mason feel guilty.

...

The chamber buzzed with controlled chaos.

Nobles whispered among themselves.

Priests stood in anxious clusters. Military commanders argued quietly over territory reports.

The moment Mason entered, silence spread instantly.

Every head bowed.

"My Goddess."

He resisted the urge to wave awkwardly.

Authority settled naturally around him;

Athlian’s presence blends seamlessly with his own composure.

He took the throne.

Draca positioned himself at his right side.

Saleem stepped forward, already sweating from managing too many political personalities.

"Agenda item one," He announced, "neighboring kingdoms request confirmation of divine alignment following last night’s event."

Mason leaned back.

"So they want reassurance that heaven won’t destroy them?"

"Yes."

"Understandable."

Lorian stood nearby, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Saki lounged against a pillar like royal meetings were entertainment.

Seris observed quietly, absorbing every reaction.

Mason spoke clearly. "Send diplomatic responses confirming stability. No threats. No divine warnings."

Several nobles exchanged surprised looks.

One elderly priest spoke carefully. "My Goddess... traditionally divine acknowledgment is used to reinforce authority through fear."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "And fear builds loyalty?"

The priest hesitated. "...No."

"Then we try respect instead."

Murmurs spread.

Athlian felt strangely proud. ’You rule differently.’

"Efficiency," Mason replied internally.

As discussion continued, Mason noticed something else.

Draca hadn’t taken his eyes off him once.

Not protective scanning but observation.

Measuring tone, gestures, decisions.

Every small difference.

The realization settled heavily...he’s studying me.

The meeting ended successfully; alliances stabilized, panic reduced, political tensions eased.

As nobles exited, Saki approached first.

"You realize," he said casually, "half the council believes you became wiser after awakening."

"Good," Mason replied.

"The other half believes you were replaced by a strategist."

Mason froze for half a second.

Saki grinned knowingly. "I prefer this version."

He walked away laughing.

Athlian hummed thoughtfully. ’Even they feel it.’

Mason exhaled slowly. The secret wouldn’t stay hidden forever.

But not yet...not until he understood this world fully.

...

Mason escaped politics by visiting the training grounds.

Warriors sparred under the sun as steel clashed rhythmically.

Draca followed silently beside him.

Finally, he spoke. "You move differently as well."

Mason groaned softly. "You’re still analyzing me?"

"I observe what I protect.

They stopped near the edge of the arena.

Draca faced him fully now.

No court formality, just sincerity.

"When you awoke," he said quietly, "I expected the Goddess I remembered."

Mason held his breath.

Draca continued. "But sometimes... it feels like I am meeting her for the first time."

The words hung between them.

Athlian went completely silent.

Mason forced calm. "And is that disappointing?"

Draca shook his head immediately.

"No."

His voice softened. "It is... comforting."

That surprised Mason more than suspicion would have.

Draca stepped back slightly, regaining professional posture.

"Forgive my curiosity, My Goddess."

Mason nodded.

But inside, tension tightened.

He knows something is wrong.

Not truth yet but instinct had awakened.

And Draca trusted instinct more than anyone.

Athlian whispered gently, ’He will not expose us.’

"I know," Mason replied internally.

That was exactly why he was dangerous.

Because when Draca finally discovered the truth...

It wouldn’t be a judgment.

It would be understanding. And understanding meant the secret could no longer hide.

Across the arena, distant thunder rolled though the sky remained clear.

Mason felt divine energy stir again.

Watching and waiting.

The gods had not finished their investigation.

And now...neither had Draca.